— sexual content —
6 MONTHS EARLIER:
Elliot's party
A C E
ATLAS LOOKS AT ME and something in my chest crumbles. I crumble. I'm dust, airborne and completely at his will. He could want anything from me right now and I wouldn't even question it. I'd throw my arms wide and say take it all, it's yours.
I'm yours.
And that terrifies me.
Before this moment, before he stared up at me with his big, stupid bluer than blue eyes, I couldn't figure out why I followed him up here of my own free will. Carter joked about some crush and suddenly, my legs moved before my mind could catch up to the consequences.
I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't, yet here I am; leaning against the wall with my arms crossed, trying my best to look unaffected as he continues to stare at me, rambling on in true Atlas fashion about God knows fucking what. I swear he doesn't even understand half the shit that leaves his mouth.
I don't even listen to him, I mindlessly flirt with him, sure, but mostly, I just watch him; his wide blown eyes, his rosy cheeks, his constant shifting from one foot to the other as if he's nervous to be in a room with me, his mouth.
I can't take my eyes off him, which is fucking insane because this is Atlas. Fucking Atlas. Atlas who ate seven crayons at Leo's fifth birthday party and claimed green tasted best. Atlas who smeared marinara sauce all his face on my thirteenth birthday and put me off pizza for a month. Atlas who has been a constant pain in my ass for as long as I can remember.
This is Atlas.
Atlas.
The same Atlas who has a hold on me right now that no one else ever has, one I can't even begin to understand let alone try to explain.
It's like we're magnetic, drawing closer and closer until the air between us is sizzles with electricity. He's so close now that I can feel his hot breaths fan over my skin. Tilting my head down to meet his gaze, his blue eyes watch me like a hawk as I lift my hand to his face, running the knuckle of my pointer finger over the nasty scratch on his cheek.
I could kiss him if I wanted to.
I think I'd like to kiss him.
Maybe.
And that thought is fucking terrifying.
I can't kiss him.
"You." Atlas replies.
I don't even know what I said to him, I was just fucking around, teasing him like I always do.
What the fuck did I say?
I don't get much of a chance to dwell on it, not really. Like someone's stuck a rocket up his ass, Atlas lunges at me like a fucking whippet chasing a ball, stealing my lips before I can even process what the fuck is happening.
His lips meet mine and I can't get over how soft they are, even when they're ravaging my mouth like I'll be his last ever taste. It's not how I imagined kissing a boy would feel, not that I have imagined it a whole lot. Or ever. I've kissed my fair share of girls before, but their kisses never felt like his.
The realisation of what's happening hits me like a brick and my hand falls from his cheek instantly. Body seizing, muscles tensing as I stand still as a fucking statue. My thoughts run crazy for the entirety of his three second kiss and then some. And before I know it, he's pulling back before I get the chance to fully taste him.
My stomach sinks.
Why the fuck am I disappointed about that?
Atlas. Atlas. Atlas.
He ate crayons. He ate crayons. He ate fucking crayons. I remind myself, trying to shake off the disappointment and calm my dick down.
It doesn't work. It should, it would've in the past, but now I want to be one of those crayons. I want to feel myself glide down his throat.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I gulp and raise my hand to my mouth, my shaky fingers running over my lips in awe, or shock, maybe both. I don't fucking know. My tongue sneaks out despite my protests, desperate for the taste we never got, trying to salvage whatever residue his lips may have left.
It's nowhere near enough.
"Shit, shit, shit," Atlas exhales a panicked breath.
My eyes find his and I blink at him, feeling a little delirious and a whole lotta confused. I'm so confused in fact, that I begin to wonder if this is some kind of nightmare. A new nightmare to add to my growing collection.
"Fuck, I shouldn't have done that," he stammers. "I mean it's not that I didn't want to. I did. I really did. I-I do. It's just... you don't seem like you want-"
My hearts hammering and my palms break out in a nervous sweat. This isn't a nightmare. It's real. Atlas Evans kissed me.
He kissed me.
Me.
Okay, maybe it is a nightmare, one where I'm too far gone to break free.
One I might just want to live in for as long as I possibly can.
Kill me now.
I push the thoughts aside and focus on the boy freaking out in front of me, breathing him and all his nervous quirks in.
It's strange, I've never looked at him like this before, never wanted him like this before. Shit, I've never had the urge to kiss anyone before, let alone Atlas. Any girls I'd kissed at parties in the past was for the sole purpose of proving a point.
And that point was what?
This. That point was this.
I'm not like this. I'm not into guys.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I thought I was past feeling this way, that I'd somehow cured whatever attraction lingered from my early tweens when I realised I noticed pretty boys long before noticing pretty girls.
The pretty boy rambling in front of me, the feel of him lingering on my lips, the hardness pressing against my zipper...
They beg to differ.
I'm so fucked.
I try to calm the erratic thoughts in my head, but I can't think straight, which is pretty fucking ironic considering nothing about this entire situation screams straight.
Don't think about it.
Ignore it.
"Atlas," I finally find my voice, failing to hide how it quivers. Jesus Christ, grow a pair and stop being such a little bitch.
He talks over me.
How surprising.
"I'm so sorry, Ace. Shit, I thought... I dunno what I thought but I-"
"Atlas," I repeat, patience wearing thin.
Surprise, again, he doesn't listen to me.
I don't know what he says next, and honestly, I couldn't give a single fucking shit. He talks too much and if I wait any longer I'm going to pussy out big time.
I don't want to pussy out.
Clearly.
"Atlas!" I snap, lacing my fingers in his hair, tilting his head back so he'll meet my eyes and maybe, if I can be so lucky, shut the fuck up.
He blinks at me, long eyelashes fluttering. "Uh, hm?" He hums, looking as dazed as I feel. I guess that's kind of reassuring.
Frustrated, I let go of his hair and shake my head. "Will you shut the fuck up?"
"Oh," his eyes fall to the floor, and I want to fucking strangle him for having this fucked up effect on me and making me care when I shouldn't. I really shouldn't. "Okay, so-"
He needs to shut up, because if I hear one more sorry, I'll fucking kill him.
Fuck it.
Fisting the collar of his sweatshirt, I ignore the way my fingers tremble and knees threaten to buckle as I shove him back against the glass shower door. We trip into each other, falling further into the shower stall, but I don't care.
I don't care.
I want this.
I want him.
Don't think. Don't think. Don't think.
His eyes are blown wide, but he doesn't look scared. He wants this too, he wouldn't have kissed me if he didn't. "Wha-"
I ignore him and shut my eyes, slamming my mouth down against his, wanting to steal his words with my tongue, desperate to taste everything he failed to give me the first time.
Like the little shit I've always known him to be, he smiles against my lips and keeps his mouth firmly shut.
"Really?" I pull back, staring at him blankly. He looks so smug, I fucking hate it. Two can play at this game. Smirking, I lean into him, lips brushing his, purposely stealing his breath as I whisper, "And here I was thinking you were a good boy, Ati."
Since when did I call Atlas nicknames and when the fuck did I become a cringey piece of shit?
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Atlas shudders, morphing my smirk to a triumphant smile. He feels it, his own lips twitching.
Maybe this could be my new way of shutting him up?
Spoke to soon. Nothing shuts Atlas up.
Nothing.
"I am a good boy," he huffs, a determined look in his eye.
He stares up at me through his lashes, trying and failing to come across as cute. He's fucking with me, playing me at my own game, the same one that got us into this mess. He leans in closer, tugging my bottom lip between his teeth.
"Do you want me to show you just how good I am, Ace?"
Check. Fucking. Mate.
Groaning, my hands move from his collar to his neck, squeezing his skin, choking, tugging pulling him as close as I possibly can, so close that our bodies mould to one.
He's quick to respond to me this time; holding me, touching me in places no one ever has, opening his mouth without hesitation, letting me taste him.
I don't know when the water from the shower starts to drown us, but we're too busy drowning in each other to give a single shit about that. The water's freezing, our skins riddled with goosebumps, but he doesn't seem to care, and I definitely don't.
I just want more.
We're frantic, our breathing is erratic, chests heaving against one another. I bite his lip, taking his gasp as an invitation to dive in deeper, my tongue taking everything it can.
It's exhilarating and all I can think is why haven't we tried this before. Why have we deprived ourselves of this for so long. Then the heavier thoughts creep in, frantically screaming at me because I'm not meant to want this. I'm not meant to want him.
Because I'm not fucking gay.
I'm not gay, I'm not, but entire body feels like it's been electrified in the best possible way, and I don't think I ever want this feeling to end.
Something about Atlas is so fucking addictive and it terrifies me. He terrifies me. He's like my own personal bottle of liquor. Sweet as the fruitiest wine. Burning a fire within me like the finest, smoothest whiskey.
Like, what the actual fuck? It makes no sense, I don't even like him. He's the most annoying person I've ever met, and most of the time I really want to punch his stupid little smile straight off his face.
Yet...
Here I am, moaning, panting, burning, aching for something I can't even let myself admit to possibly being true. Even with the freezing cold water raining down on us, I feel hotter than hot, like I'm not in a small shower stall, but instead standing directly under the sun in the middle of the dessert.
"So," I murmur against his lips, opening in my eyes because I need to see him and his cocky little grin. "Just how good are you, superstar?"
He pulls back, giving me that grin, big and wide, lighting up like sunshine, like he's not about to spin me the biggest pile of bullshit.
"I'm fucking great!" He says it with conviction, so much so that if I didn't know him as well as I already do, then I might just believe it.
"Oh, really?" I smirk, running my hand over my hair to ease the water away from my eyes. I kiss my teeth as I lean closer, trying to hide just how amusing this is. "Prove it." I whisper.
He's on me so quick, and we're kissing again. We're kissing so hard that I don't know where his tongue ends and mine starts, so hard that I see stars. It's all tongue and teeth and moans neither of us attempt to hide. It's the filthiest kiss I've ever experienced. And holy shit, he wasn't kidding when he said he was great.
Of course he wasn't.
What a fucking dickhead.
He's whining into my mouth, the sound bouncing off the glass surrounding the shower cubical, and I fucking love it. Fuck, I love it. I love it so much and I really fucking hate myself for loving it. I hate how that sound has me rock solid in my jeans, my dick straining against my zipper to the point it's almost too painful to handle.
I push him back, needing to get a grip of myself before I lose my fucking mind. He whines again, mouth chasing mine like our lips are the top competitions in a game of tag.
My hand wraps around his throat, squeezing him softly, forcing him back just by a little. I lean forward, pressing the softest, sweetest, lightest kiss to his lips, teasing him, giving him just a fraction of what he wants.
"Good boys don't whine, Atlas." I murmur with a slight tut. Of course, being the freaky little fucker he is, Atlas moans. And I'm gone. I can't stop myself from kissing him more, from diving my tongue in, wanting to pull that sound from his mouth over and over and over, again and again and again.
"Cazzo perfecto." I mumble against his lips, unsure of why I said it but knowing the thought's there. It's in my head and I don't think it'll ever leave.
I push past that and drive my tongue deeper, going in for more and more and fucking more. I need it all. I want it all. As much as I can take, as much as he's willingly to give.
He ravages my mouth with just as much need as I ravage his, his teeth biting me, claiming me in ways I never knew possible. Then, he's biting me harder and his hands are falling to the hem of my shirt, tugging the soaked fabric frantically.
He's taking me for all he can and I let him do so, complying with his silent demand as I break our lips apart and ripping the shirt from my skin with no hesitation. Because I get it. For once in our fucking lives, Atlas and I are on the same wavelength.
God fucking help me for that.
Wants are out the window. We need more.
He gawks at me, eyes shamelessly taking every inch of me in. I don't feel nervous or vulnerable or scared. I feel none of the things I ever thought I would in a situation like this. It's all desire and lust and animalistic need.
"Your turn," I tell him, gulping down the urge to rip his clothes from his body.
His lips tilt, and he smiles at me almost shyly. My stomach flips. I've never seen him like this, so nervous and giddy and completely at my mercy. This isn't how we are. He doesn't even put up a fight or deny my request just to fuck with me, like I expected he would.
He starts unbuttoning his shirt slowly, licking his lips in a way that's so ridiculous yet so unexplainably hot at the same time.
Then, because his shirt is literally drenched, the button sticks and he fumbles, biting his lip in what seemed like frustration instead of what I assume he presumed to be sexy. It is, but I'd never admit that to Atlas of all people. He's way too big headed enough as it is.
Impatient and desperate to see more of him, touch more him, feel more of him, I roll my eyes and slap his hands away, gripping the centre of his shirt, pulling it open and ignoring the sounds of the stray buttons as they hit the shower base. I look at him, at his toned arms, chest, stomach, eyes roaming places I've seen before yet never truly admired in the way they deserve.
"You just ruined my shirt," Atlas says, drawing my eyes up to his and his huffy little pout.
Suppressing a smile, I lean forward and bite that pout right off his lips. I drag my mouth from his, over his cheek, nipping his skin until I reach his earlobe. I suck, bite and nibble, savouring the taste of his skin on my tongue as I lap him up.
"I can ruin your jeans too," I whisper, grazing my teeth along his ear once more, eyes digging into his sides. "If you'll let me, that is."
Clearly, he wants me too. His hands immediately finding their way to my belt buckle, fumbling with it just like he had his buttons. He's clumsy and frantic, not even trying to be seductive this time at all. Somehow, it makes him all the more endearing.
I slap his hands away again and unbuckle my belt, slowly tearing my soaked jeans away from my skin whilst he does the same with his. Then, the water stops and we're kissing again, touching each other everywhere, in nothing but our boxer shorts, feeling everything our jeans restricted.
Atlas peppers butterfly kisses down my neck, going slower this time, taking his time for his lips to caress every part of my skin. It's killing me. He is killing me. I tilt my head back, my eyes sliding shut as my stomach erupts in tingles.
His mouth trails down my neck to my chest to my stomach, his tongue shamelessly lapping up every inch of my skin. Without warning, he goes lower and the sound of his knees echoing off the shower floor just like his buttons has my eyes snapping open.
"Atlas," I swallow thickly, my words coming out in a breathless choked up whisper. His eyes grip mine like there's no tomorrow, bluer than blue and filled with uncertainty. "You don't need to do that." I tell him, meaning every word.
Uncertainty turns hurt, brows furrowing as his eyes drop to his hands. "You don't want me to?"
He thinks I don't want him? Seriously? After all that?
What a fucking idiot.
"No—yes—I..." I sigh. Surely my hard dick right in front of his eyes tells him that I fucking want him. I've never wanted anything as much as I want him right now.
Grabbing his jaw, albeit a little rougher than I should've, he seems to like it though. I force him to meet my gaze, needing the words to sink so the idiot understands what I'm trying to say.
"I want you." I admit, voice straining. "Fuck, I really fucking want you to, but-"
"Then what's the problem?" He cuts me off, like I wasn't fucking getting to that part.
"Do you want to?" I ask, tracing my thumb over his lips. "I don't want you to feel like you need to do this. I want you to want to do it. I'm more than okay with just continuing what we've been doing." I say, keeping my voice soft in the hopes it reassures him and gets through his thick skull.
Just when I think Atlas can't possibly surprise me anymore then he already has, he stares up at me, innocent as ever as he wraps his lips around my thumb and sucks it like a fucking pro, teasing my fingertip with every twirl of his tongue, sending the biggest jolt to dick.
Killing me on the spot.
Dead and gone.
"Holy fuck." I mutter out, wide eyed as I stare down at him in shock and awe and everything in-between.
He pulls off with a sloppy pop. "That answer your question?"
My mouth is dryer than the Sahara, all I can manage in response is the weakest nod.
He stares at me, smiling up at me like he knows he's won the game.
"Mhm," I eventually hum, moving my hand to the back of his head and threading my fingers in his hair, trying to come across as confident when in reality I'm scared shitless. "Show me how great you are, cucciolo."
He raises an eyebrow at the nickname but doesn't question it. It won't make much sense to him anyway.
Tentatively, his fingers breach the edges of my boxer shorts, looping around the edges as he slowly tugs them down, my dick springing free for him to see up close and personal with no barrier between us. His smile stays intact, but I can tell he's not as confident as he made out.
"Wow, okay, okay." He exhales, blowing his hot breath straight onto my cock right as he grips it firmly in his hand. My entire body shivers, but I don't take my eyes off him. "Okay. I can do this."
I stifle a smile as he talks himself into it. I don't think he even realises broadcasting his thoughts out loud for me to hear.
"Atlas," I loosen my grip on his hair, stroking the back of his neck softly instead. "I meant what I said. You don't have to— oh, holy fucking shit." I cry out as he swallows me in one swift suck.
I can't think. I can't speak. I can't fucking breathe.
I keep my eyes on him, watching him like a hawk, in complete and utter awe as he swirls his tongue around me, swallowing me like he owns me. He doesn't look away from me, even when he chokes a gag, even when his eyes water and tears trail down his cheeks.
He never looks away.
"You feel so good." I choke out, whimpering softly as my fingers twist in his hair. His eyes beaming up at me, screaming I told you so.
His movements are slow and sloppy as he slurps me like a goddamn slushy. It makes this all the more hotter, and me even harder, the fact that I'm the first person to feel his incredible mouth, it's empowering in a way I can't describe.
"Shit, Atlas," I whine his name, throwing my head back. "I think I'm going to..." I try to push him off, to give him warning, but he sinks his nails into my ass, holding onto me for dear life. "Atlas, f-fuck."
He takes it all with ease, nothing more than the slightest of coughs and cutest nose scrunch. Hot fucking damn. Chest heaving, I take breath after breath and loosen my grip from his hair, slowly running my fingers over the back of his neck as he pulls off of me with a wet pop.
"So?" He tilts his head back, staring up at me with his teary eyes and bright smile.
I smile, panting like a madman as I shake my head. Looking down at him, I run my thumb over his lips, wiping away the last of my mess his tongue missed.
"How are you so fucking good at that?" I ask breathlessly, sliding down to the floor in front of him before my legs give way.
My back rests against the shower wall as Atlas slides his way between my legs. My eyes linger on the bulge in his underwear, fingers trembling, throat bobbing nervously.
I don't think I can put my mouth on him, but maybe my hand?
"Dunno," Atlas shrugs like it's nothing, giving me the most Atlas response in the book. "I guess I eat a lot of popsicles."
What the fuck?
I laugh and pull him closer, my hands sliding to his hips as I kiss the shit out of him, tasting myself on his lips.
"I want to touch you." I murmur against his lips.
"You do?" He stares at me as he draws back, smiling softly. Pushing to his knees, he slowly slides his boxers down his thighs.
My heart leaps to my throat with nerves of anticipation, fingers twitching anxiously as my gaze falls and stays on his naked crotch. He's already so wet, leaking just for me.
"Ace," he whispers my name like a plea, his left hand gripping my right, guiding it right where he wants me to be. "Touch me."
—
A/N : hope you're all as excited for these two as I am!
I felt like we couldn't start off Acas' story without seeing Ace's pov from that night...
thoughts?
(UPDATES WILL NOT BE REGULAR UNTIL BYLM IS COMPLETE)
4177 words